


Sacred Tears

by aries_taurus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Coda for 9.10, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, I Made Myself Cry, Men Crying, Minor Character Death, Sad, Spoilers, Tears, Tissue Warning, possible spoilers for 9.11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: 'There is a sacredness in tears. They are NOT the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.’ -Washington Irving





	Sacred Tears

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR 9.10  
> This... This is what I came up with to... deal with the mess of emotions that 9.10 left me in. Definite spoilers for the episode.  
> WARNING WARNING WARNING  
> This requires tissues. I mande myself and others cry with this.
> 
> ALSO POSSIBLE 9.11 spoilers as the ending is based on the press release photo.
> 
> ****MANY THANKS to bgharison for enduring my neurotic self while I wrote this

The sunset is awe-inspiring, breath-takingly beautiful. He’s seen many picture-perfect ones on Oahu, but this one is the most beautiful one he’s ever witnessed, just like he tells Joe. It’s also the most heart-wrenchingly painful. 

Joe grows still in his arms and he can’t hold back the tears, the grief so deep he’s afraid he’ll drown in it. It’s too much. It’s just too damned much. Somewhere in his mind, he’s screaming. Why, why me, not me, not again, I can’t, _not again_ , not one more, not me, please not again. But he knows he doesn’t get a choice, that life isn’t fair, that life is cruel and that life, most of all, hurts, often and many times more than it should.  

Fate seemingly favours certain people on which to inflict pain. He knows that well; he’s been one of its chosen for a very long time. Somehow, he never gets used to it. 

When life offers him beauty, joy, love, happiness, or friendship, he grasps it with both hands, because it’s so, so precious and always so, so fleeting. 

In this moment, however, despite the beauty, he’s lost to the pain. There’s only so much he can bear and right now, as the sun touches the mountains, sets them ablaze with beautiful light, the only thing he can feel is the agony of loss. 

He surrenders to the sorrow, sobs quietly over his mentor’s body as the light fades over the majestic peaks, the cold slowly seeping into him with the encroaching darkness.  

When the first raw edges of grief have been dulled and he can pull himself together, he gathers Joe in his arms, places him as gently as he can over one of the horses’ back, secures him and slowly makes his way back to the ranch. 

Once there, he lays Joe to rest besides Cole, and keeps vigil over them, draws strength from the bond they shared, from _everything_ they shared. Now’s not yet the time to grieve for Joe. He’s got five brothers to bury, and he’s got some hunting to do, because those responsible will _pay._  

He pulls out his phone and calls Junior, because it’s easiest, because Junior already knows. Because Joe... Joe called him, cancelled the Medevac, because Joe _knew_.  

“Sir,” Junior answers, his tone full of regret. 

Steve has to swallow hard and blow out a breath before he can speak. “We have brothers to bring home, Junior,” he somehow manages to say. “I’m staying with them. I need... I need you to...” he can’t say more, his voice breaking. 

“We’re coming to you, Sir. We’ll be there by morning. I, uh, told local LEOs to wait for us.” 

“Thank you.” he grits out, grateful, before hanging up the phone. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, in the dark, besides Joe, besides Cole, doesn’t know how long the night is, here. The sky is just starting to lighten with the first hints of the coming dawn when he hears a car coming.  

Instantly on alert, he stands and picks up the nearest rifle he can find, heading for the closest cover. He’s not taking any chances. He brings the rifle up to his shoulder, the road in his sights. 

A white pick-up shows up a couple seconds later, slows down, turns into the drive and stops by the burned-out hulk of his rental. The engine stops and someone steps out, shutting the door. 

“Steve! Don’t shoot! It’s me! Steve! Where are you!” 

Steve’s heart drops and jumps all at once, the voice instantly recognized.  

It’s Danny. How... 

He stands, drops the rifle and comes out from behind the corner or the porch he’s been crouching behind, not quite believing... 

“Danny? What...” 

“Shit, babe, C’mere,” Danny says, jogging to him, his arms open in invitation and fuck if Steve doesn’t just crumple into his embrace, tears flooding from his eyes, both grateful Danny’s here and simultaneously flooded with guilt. 

“Danny. You shouldn’t’ve come, Danny, Grace-” 

“Grace is the one that told me to go. She said to tell you that she knows you need me more than she does right now. She sent you something, check your email later.  Besides I couldn't just leave you alone with this. Damn, Steve...” 

Danny’s tone is soft, caring and it brings more tears to his eyes, the thick lump of grief back into his throat. “They killed him, Danny,” he murmurs, “they killed my whole fucking team. They killed Joe. They killed _Joe_ ,” he repeats, burying his face in Danny’s neck. 

“I know, buddy. I know. I’m so, so sorry you lost him. I know how much he meant to you,” Danny says, hugging him hard. 

After a bit, he pulls himself together again, releases Danny, straightening up with a wince and hiss of pain. 

“You okay, babe? You hurt?” 

He shakes his head and sniffs, scrubbing a hand over his face. Steve knows the team will have told Danny about the altercation in his kitchen. “No more than I was before I got here.” It’s a lie, but he’s okay. He’s had worse. He’s, he’s fine. He’s okay even if he isn’t. He needs to hold on to that lie. 

“No? You sure? Babe, you got blood all over you.” 

Steve shakes his head again. “It’s... It’s nothing. A few... scrapes. Most of it’s... not mine.” 

Danny nods, understanding, or at least capitulating. “Okay. C’mon babe. Let's go inside. Get some coffee going. The others’ll be here soon. We can take care of Joe and Cole like they deserve, then you can get some rest, okay?” 

He nods, suddenly shivering, realizing just how cold he is. “There’s uh. Couple bodies. In the house,” he says. He figures he should warn Danny. In case.  

“Okay. Come on. Let’s get you inside. You’re freezing.” 

 

* * *

 

 

He loses time. 

He lost time, somewhere, because he blinks and it’s full light out and there’s a mostly empty cup of coffee in his hands, his fingers wrapped around it, tingling as they warm against the still hot ceramic. 

It’s at least his second cup. He can tell from the slight headache and from the fullness in his stomach, the pull in his bladder. He spares a moment to think that maybe he has a concussion, because being close to two RPG blasts might just do that but... 

He hears voices outside; Danny’s Junior’s, Lou’s, Tani’s. Others.  

He doesn’t move, stays where he is, sitting at Joe’s table, in Joe’s cabin, while Joe’s lying dead on the ground outside. He knows he’s in shock, rationally. His mind knows it, but there’s this... disconnect, somewhere, between him and the real world. He’s grateful for it, at the moment, because it’s dulled the pain, dulled the grief, and maybe if he stays like this for a while, he can function, enough to get through the funerals, all five of them, and then he can do what he has to for all his brothers, and for Joe. 

Maybe, maybe after he’s done that, maybe then, he can let himself feel again. 

He drinks the last of the coffee and stands, squares his shoulders, draws in a deep breath and thinks about what Joe said. It’s his turn to take care of his people. 

“I won’t let you down, Joe,” he murmurs. “I promise.” 

He pushes the grief down, reaches deep, reaches for that strength his mentor gave him, taught him how to have. He swallows and exhales, looking out the shattered window, at his team, _his people, his_ _ohana_ _._  

It’s time. 

He walks out of the cabin, and of course, Danny spots him first. 

“Steve,” Danny says, and the whole team hears and stops and follow behind him, with their eyes on Steve, their gazes all saying the same thing. It’s love and support and grief and worry and it’s... overwhelming. Good. Sad. Comforting. 

“Hey,” he says, feet rooted in the dirt. Can’t find any words yet, can’t move to them. 

“You doing okay?” Danny asks him in that... tone of his that slips past all of his defences. 

Steve wants to say yes, but for once, he doesn’t pretend. He gives him a rueful half smile. “No. Not even close, but... You guys are here and... that’s all I need.” 

“Anything, babe, you know that,” and Danny’s there with the hug and there’s Lou and Tani and even Junior and he’s engulfed into this... bubble of them. 

There isn’t a dry eye to be seen when they part, and for once, he doesn’t feel self-conscious.  

“Thank you. Thank you for being here. All of you,” he says, from the depth of his soul. 

They all nod, but it’s Junior who speaks first. “When you’re ready, Sir.” 

He’ll never be  but it’s time to take their brothers home, so he nods. 

“Let’s take ’em home.” 

 

* * *

 

The next two weeks are a constant blur of people, places, rigid protocols, red tape, frustration, underlined by a constant ache of brutal loss, cut into painful fragments by the sound of Taps and 21-gun salutes and it’s like he’s outside himself, watching from outside, seeing only his image in the mirror, in dress blues or dress whites, or his face reflected on the polished wood of a casket as he slams his trident into it, over and over again. 

He’s taken his whites off for the last time, after the last funeral. 

After Joe’s. 

He’s home now, Joe’s ashes resting on his desk in the den, a plane ticket back to Montana on the blotter just beside the urn. The ashes are going back to that field, to that Ponderosa Pine, the day after tomorrow. 

Tonight? Tonight, he’s paying tribute. 

He sits on the sofa, with a bottle of Joe’s favourite bourbon in his hand and nothing else. 

He raises the bottle in silence and brings it to his lips, taking a deep swallow as he watches the sky turn orange as the sun sinks towards the ocean. He won’t see it set from here; his house is facing the wrong direction but every time he sees the sky painted with those beautiful colours, he’s right back there, under that majestic pine, feeling Joe grow still in his arms and his heart feels like it’s breaking all over again. 

So far, he hasn’t let it, hasn’t let himself feel, since then. 

Tonight, he can’t stop the memories. 

He brings the bottle to his lips again, drinks, eyes on the fiery sky, and lets them come, lets the grief they bring have free reign. 

The last of the purple is just fading from the sky when he hears someone at the door.  

He doesn’t move, except to drink more bourbon from the bottle. He knows it’s Danny. He heard the car in the driveway, recognized his steps on the front walk. 

The door opens and closes, steps come towards him. He stays still, eyes on the horizon. 

The sofa sinks as Danny’s weight settles by his side. 

He expects words, questions, but Danny offers silence, a hand on the back of his neck. 

Steve offers the only thing he can; the bottle in his hand.  

Danny takes it, looks at the label, squinting in the fading light, nods and takes a swig before returning it to him. 

He slugs down more bourbon, aware he’s already way past drunk, by he’s way past caring. He’s used to loss, to death, or at least he should be; he isn’t. It always hurts and he’s always surprised at how much. But this time, it’s different somehow. It’s worse and he doesn’t understand why. He’s lost his mother, his father, had his heart broken, even, but it’s never felt like this. He doesn’t know when he started crying, and it doesn’t seem he’ll ever be able to stop. 

And with Danny’s hand there, on the back of his neck, gently stroking, with Danny by his side, the quiet, unstoppable tears turn into a flood, into a raging storm. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.” 

He shakes his head, gasping in a shuddering breath. The hole he can feel opening inside his chest feels like a mortar round blast. It feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s drowning. 

His hand somehow finds Danny’s arm and he clutches at it, his fingers closing around the warm flesh and holding on tight, tight as he can. 

He doesn’t know how but he’s huddled against Danny’s chest, Danny strong and warm at his back, holding him tight, holding him as he falls completely apart. 

“You’re okay. It’s okay. I promise, Steve. I promise. You’ll be okay.” 

“Wh... Why does it feel... like _this_?” he manages to grit out. Why does it feel like I’m the one dying, is what he wants to ask, why does it hurt so much? 

“You loved him, babe. You loved him. Joe was like your dad and you were really close, and... The more you love someone, the more you grieve, and... your dad and you... you didn’t get a chance to be close, but you and Joe... You got that chance. And now... Now you got all this grief, all these tears, and that’s okay babe. It’s a mark of love, not weakness. There’s this quote, it’s by Washington Irving. It says: ‘There is a sacredness in tears. They are NOT the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.’ So go right ahead, cry. Cry all the tears in the world if you need to. There ain’t no one here to judge. Okay?” 

“Okay,” he sniffles. “Okay.” 

He lets his head lie back against Danny’s shoulder and surrenders, lets the grief have him for as long as it will. 

 

* * *

 

He lays Joe to rest on the prairie like he asked, at the foot of that majestic pine. His heart is still heavy, his soul weighed down with too much grief.  

This place is his now, and maybe... maybe he’ll stay for a while, give himself some time to heal, let himself recover before heading back home. He knows his grief will take a long time to disappear. It’ll take time before he can think about Joe’s impact on his life, about his voice, his laugh, his yelling, God, his yelling all thought BUD/s, before he can do so without tearing up or hurting, but it’ll happen, one day. 

He’s grateful though, to have had the chance to say to Joe how much he meant to him, and to thank him, and to hear Joe say how proud of him he always was. He’s lucky. He got to say goodbye to the man he considered a father, to the man he knew considered him a son. He’s grateful to have been there, in the end, for Joe, so he didn’t have to be alone. 

He’ll keep going. He always does. He’s a SEAL, that’s who he is; it’s what Joe made him to be, so he knows he’ll get through this. He smiles softly. Joe would be glad to know he’s still pushing Steve along, even now. The never-ever-give-up SEAL mentality will never leave him and that’s the best tribute he can give to Joe White. 

For now though, he needs distance, time, space. He needs to find that place inside him where that SEAL resides because at the moment, that man is lost. So for now, he’s staying here, until he finds himself again.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. I still have so many feels about this ep and want to read so much fic about it because there is so MUCH HURT in this episode. AOL and TOQ were... Mind Blowingly awesome.


End file.
